


walk me home

by evotter



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Everyone Needs A Hug, Far From Home spoilers, Fix-It, Gen, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter says Fuck, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 17:51:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19728721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evotter/pseuds/evotter
Summary: He snaps his fingers and everything goes white.When did Tony Stark know he would die?





	walk me home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iron_spider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iron_spider/gifts).



> i used to dislike tony stark.  
> he was never my favorite; the first marvel film i saw was avengers 1 and i backtracked from there. and yeah, the iron man films were cool, but my favorite character was first and immediately captain america. so when civil war came out, i saw it on opening night, and i was immediately team cap from the get-go. the film made me angry at tony, angry at his character, angry at his choices. i spent the next year or so not really being an anti, but not particularly liking him either.  
> then homecoming was released. i lost my shit. i’d only seen amazing spider-man 1 and i wasn’t all that into it, so i wasn’t as excited as everyone else when spider-man made his MCU appearance in CW. but i loved tom holland’s acting, i loved the plot, i loved how tony stark became a mentor to this 15-year-old kid. i went back and rewatched the iron man films and suddenly found myself liking his character more and more.  
> it wasn’t until infinity war that i really became invested in the irondad relationship, though. i wanted every moment of that movie to be them. i cried when peter dusted. after that, i started reading irondad fics for the first time. one of the very first users i came across was allie - iron_spider.  
> i also lost my shit there. her writing is so good, so in-character, so heartbreakingly beautiful that i wish we had more time with peter and tony just being peter and tony. and some part of me always knew tony was going to die in endgame - but allie’s reaction to it was the first that i saw post-movie, and it somehow made it feel a lot more upsetting than it had been (which is really saying a lot, bc i was really really gutted about it in the first place).  
> i wish i’d loved tony from the beginning. i wish it didn’t take me seven years of films to see it. i wish he’d had more time.  
> so i wrote this. i wrote this for myself, for tony stark, for peter parker, and for allie. tony stark, i love you 3000. even dead, you really are the hero.

Peter doesn’t see much on the battlefield.

To be honest, he feels like he’s just woken up from an obscenely long nap. Which he kind of has, according to Doctor Strange—and Peter pretty much believes everything the doctor says, even if he and his cape are assholes most of the time.

They jump through one of Strange’s many portals and Peter witnesses the most _amazing_ team-up of all time and he feels like orchestra music should be swelling around them. Steve Rogers calls to assemble and this is shit straight out of a movie, really. He can’t _wait_ to tell Ned about how he held the gauntlet and some really pretty glowing lady took it from him and Captain _freaking_ America called him _Queens_ and—

And Mr. Stark, hugging Peter in the middle of this giant battle, letting everything else fade around them. _Tony,_ Peter thinks, closing his eyes. Tony drops a kiss to his hairline, holds him just a bit tighter. _Tonytonytonytonytony._ Maybe he’ll actually listen and start calling him _Tony_ after all of this is over. 

Mr. Stark says, “Hug me, kid,” and Peter feels warmth just like what he can remember from his dad’s smiles or Uncle Ben’s hands ruffling up his curls. _We’re not there yet._

Mr. Stark says, “I am Iron Man,” and Peter feels sick, just like after he’d ridden the Cyclone on Coney Island and puked off the side of the pier. A pit in his stomach he can’t shake. 

Mr. Stark snaps his fingers and everything goes white.

=

_Tony please don’t go please don’t leave me I just got you back you just got me back we’re going to be okay_

_You can rest now._

_Mr. Stark please I don’t want you to go I can’t let you go please don’t please stay here I can’t lose anyone else I can’t lose you_

Like a shooting star fading across the horizon, the light begins to die in Tony Stark’s eyes. _One outcome,_ Doctor Strange said. Peter can’t lift his head but he knows the doctor is somewhere near, probably watching, probably already knowing that this is how they win, this is how they beat Thanos; Tony Stark dies and the world lives. He traded his life for everyone else’s.

Peter can’t beg through his tears anymore.

The field is silent. Several parts of the facility are still on fire. There are dead littering the ground, but Thanos and his army are gone. Everyone standing—everyone _breathing—_ can’t make a sound, still recovering and processing. 

When did Tony Stark know he would die?

_Anything please if anyone’s listening I’ll do anything I can’t lose him we can’t lose him please Mr. Stark please stay_

The light dims but does not disappear. 

Tony takes a rattling breath. 

=

Peter can’t remember the last time he wore a suit. The one he’s got on is one of Tony’s, one Pepper found buried in a box in the basement of their cabin on the lake. The sleeves are a bit too long and the pants are definitely too short, but there’s something comforting about being in clothes that aren’t his own when it’s been five years since he faded into dust. 

They’re all at the cabin. There’s Carol Danvers, the pretty glowing lady who fought better than anyone Peter’s ever seen; Bruce Banner, who is permanently a weird Banner-Hulk hybrid that Peter can’t really wrap his head around; Captain America— _both_ of them, according to what Steve Rogers had announced just about five minutes ago—and Bucky Barnes, as well as the other Avengers Peter had fought against at that airport in Germany; the King of Wakanda and his sister, as well as the other lady that Peter is terrified of. Clint Barton and his wife and three kids stand near the front. Thor is there, beard and gut and all, standing with the Guardians of the Galaxy. Doctor Strange, in a normal suit, which is _really_ throwing Peter for a loop. Some kid who looks a bit older than Peter. Nick Fury, lurking on the porch in that weird way. Maria Hill standing right beside him. Aunt May, her hand around Peter’s. Happy, James Rhodes, and Pepper, standing to Peter’s left.

And Morgan Stark, curled around the side of Pepper’s body, her head resting on her mother’s shoulder. She’s not the focus of today but Peter finds he can’t stop staring at her.

He can’t stop staring at the spider pendant around her neck.

In any other circumstances, Peter would literally have passed out from being around _this_ many superheroes two days in a row. But this is not the right place or time. 

Clint Barton steps forward. He’s got something in his hands that Peter can’t see, not even as the archer kneels down to the waterfront and sets it in the lake. When Clint moves, and the object continues to drift further away from the shoreline, he can see it: a flower wreath, full of blacks and reds and dark leaves. Clint Barton waits until it’s a fair distance and then lands a flaming arrow straight to the center. Like a miniature funeral pyre.

There’s not a body to bury, so they’re doing what they can.

That’s all the Avengers—or whatever the hell they’re supposed to be now—can do.

=

They get cheeseburgers.

Happy has them delivered to the cabin. There’s, like, a hundred of them. Then again, considering the company, Peter’s not that surprised. They’ll probably all be eaten by the time night falls.

Pepper corners him while he’s in the kitchen, grabbing napkins to throw on the table next to the takeout. “I have a friend who wants to meet you,” she says.

Peter’s eyes flit down to the dark head hiding behind Pepper’s skirt. His heart lurches. This is Tony’s _kid._ Tony Stark has a kid. “Yeah?” he replies, leaning to the side to see the little girl a bit more. He kneels down, because that’s what he used to do when he talked to kids on the streets of Queens. Before everything. “Well, I’d love to meet her, too.”

That gets Morgan’s attention. She catches his eye, still holding onto Pepper’s skirt. The spider pendant around her neck is silver and sticks out against her black dress. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Peter says. He extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Peter.”

“I know,” says Morgan, in her tiny five-year-old voice. She lets go of Pepper’s skirt to shake Peter’s hand. “Daddy told me about you. He said you’re my big brother.”

“Oh,” says Peter, dumb and soft. He wasn’t expecting that.

Pepper smiles.

=

After the funeral, six burgers, and an unholy amount of tears, Peter follows May out to their car. He wonders how long her cheeks are going to look tear-stained. He wonders how long his are. 

“Hey, Queens.”

Peter turns. There’s Steve Rogers, out of his suit and in a red and white uniform. It’s got the Avengers logo near the top. “Cap,” he says, the word strange on his tongue. “Going somewhere?”

“I—yeah,” he says. “I’ve got to return the stones to their original timelines before everything goes to shit.”

 _It already kind of has,_ Peter thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “Can’t believe you all got to time travel and I didn’t.”

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” Steve admits. He looks lost for just a moment. Then, he says, “I just...wanted to give you my number, in case you need anything, especially with Tony—”

“He’s not dead,” Peter blurts, because the look in Steve’s eyes makes him say it.

Steve’s entire expression shifts. It’s not comforting. “I know,” he says, and sounds like he means it. “But he’d kick my ass if I didn’t look out for you while he’s fighting his way back to us.”

Peter doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s afraid his emotions will betray him if he did.

He lets Captain America write his personal number on a slip of paper and keeps it in his hand the entire car ride home.

=

“May,” says Peter, as she turns down their street. “Is—um, was—was Ned—?”

“I don’t know, honey.” May answers. His heart sinks. She was gone too, Peter remembers, but she carries herself like she’s lived the past five years without him. “But we’ll figure it out.”

They go up to their apartment, all the way to the seventh floor, and May fishes out her key like they haven’t just lost five years of their lives. It fits, they enter, and everything is the way it was left: books askew on the shelves, coffee table just a bit crooked, plastic fruit in a bowl adorning the kitchen island. 

“You’d think someone would have moved in or something in our absence.” Peter remarks.

May clears her throat. “Pepper told me that Tony kept it clean for us.” she says. She sets her bag down on the counter. “I guess he never gave up.”

“He’s not dead,” says Peter, for the second time in as many hours.

May’s expression is softer than Steve’s was. “No,” she agrees. “He’s not.” 

=

Ned’s number is the same and Peter cries when his best friend answers the phone. 

_“No, I—I disappeared too.”_ Ned says, probably also crying. _“My parents didn’t, they’re still a wreck—but MJ did, so did Betty, Abe—even_ Flash, _man, when we all reappeared he literally hugged me, I still feel like burning my clothes—”_

He keeps talking, because Ned has never been good at silence, and Peter just listens, a smile numbing his cheeks and tears soaking his shirt. 

=

May lets Peter leave that night, so he goes straight to Ned’s. When his best friend opens the door, Peter hugs and doesn’t let go for what feels like forever; when he pulls back, MJ is sitting on Ned’s couch, as well as Betty and Flash and Abe.

“Good to see you, dweeb,” says MJ. 

“You too.” Peter says. His heart feels lighter.

Flash manages to not be a dick at all during the entire night. They play games, search the internet, try to catch up on anything they might have missed while not existing. Betty talks about how her older brother’s got a daughter named after her and how Abe is still searching for his parents and how Ned’s parents still cry every time they see him. MJ says next to nothing except for the fact that now her not-so-little sister’s going to be graduating the same year as her. It’s only been a week since they all came back but it feels easier to breathe than a few days ago. 

For a minute, Peter forgets about everything else.

Then Flash, real quiet, says, “I’m sorry about Tony Stark, man,” and Peter remembers all over again.

This time, he doesn’t have the strength to say _he’s not dead._

=

They have Tony hooked up to numerous machines and wires in a hospital room inside an old S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. It’s top-secret, highly remote, and completely off the grid. The only people who know his location are the Avengers and Nick Fury’s top medics. Helen Cho is one that Peter sees walking around, as well as Dr. Banner, though the scientist tends to keep in his lab rather than study Tony’s vitals.

There’s irreparable damage to the right side of Tony’s body. Just like Banner, his right arm is completely useless. It’s so blackened and burned and shrivelled that Colonel Rhodes had slid a glove over it the last time he’d been at Tony’s bedside. Most of the scar tissue is underneath Tony’s clothes, but the best of it crawls up the side of Tony’s face and fades just by his cheekbone. Peter doesn’t know if it’s a trick of the light, but he feels like when he moves just head just right, the colors of the stones glint against the black. It’s hauntingly beautiful; looking at it makes Peter want to hurl. 

“You’re doing great,” he tells Tony, patting his good arm weakly. The steady drone of his heart monitor is going to be stuck in Peter’s head forever. “You’ll wake up soon.”

He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince more.

=

Peter visits Morgan and Pepper probably twice a week, because Morgan’s got those big brown Tony eyes that Peter really can’t say no to. Besides, the kid’s got an _amazing_ imagination; one day they’re pirates and the next they’re spies. They play and Peter pretends to get tired and Pepper makes them dinner and Peter reads Morgan a story before she goes to sleep.

One day, when Pepper’s making tacos and Morgan’s rifling around in her toy room, she declares, “I want to play superheroes.”

“Oh?” says Peter, whose concentration is mainly focused on the twenty-piece puzzle of Captain America he’s got in front of him.

“Uh huh,” she says. She’s rifling through one of her costume bins, making a mess Peter knows he’ll probably clean up for her later. 

“Okay, Em. Who do you want to be?”

“I’m Iron Man,” Morgan answers, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. “And I want you to be Spider-Man.”

Peter tears his eyes away from the puzzle. She’s holding out a mask in her hand—it’s a Spider-Man mask, with the area around the eyes cut out. In her other hand, she’s got a purple-blue helmet. 

He takes his mask carefully. He’s seen that helmet in action: back to back with one in red-and-gold, eyes alight, faceplate up as Pepper whispers _You can rest now._ “Pretty sure that’s Mommy’s helmet, isn’t it?”

“Nuh _uh._ This is mine.”

For a five-year-old, she’s a pretty convincing liar. “So if I put it on I won’t hear F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

Morgan pouts at him. She sets the helmet back in her bin. “Mommy said she wasn’t using it anymore,” she says, all guilty. She sticks her hand out. “If I can’t be Iron Man, I wanna be Spider-Man.”

He tosses the kid mask at her. “Fine,” he says. “Then who am I?”

(When Pepper calls them for dinner and they arrive, Morgan in her Spider-Man costume and Peter in the chokingly-small red cape and blond child’s wig perched on top of his curls, brandishing a miniature hammer, she laughs so hard she cries.)

=

The next time Peter visits Tony, Wanda Maximoff is sitting at his bedside.

“I lost my entire family because of Tony Stark,” she says, after minutes of sitting in silence. “My parents from his missile. My brother from his creation.” 

Peter’s heart twists in his chest. “Tony would never intentionally—” 

Wanda holds up her hands. “I know,” she replies. “Both times, he believed what he was doing was right. That’s exactly what he believed he was doing when he wielded the gauntlet. I don’t think I could have the courage to do what he did, and I...wouldn’t have sacrificed an entire life to do so. Tony did.” 

She places her palm on Tony’s forehead, fingertips glowing red. Peter can see the red around her eyes and knows it’s not just her magic. “He’s dreaming,” says Wanda, barely above a whisper.

“About what?” Peter asks, before he can help himself.

Her smile is like a ghost’s. “About the stars.”

=

Peter knows, if he’s completely honest with himself, that there’s a chance Tony won’t wake up. Wielding the stones should have killed him; it destroyed Bruce’s entire right arm and he’s the fucking _Hulk._ Tony is just...Tony. A human. Iron Man.

_I am Iron Man._

_You can rest now._

He’s texted Steve since the funeral, just so he also has Peter’s number; Steve doesn’t text much, but he does maybe once a week, just to check in. Calls Peter _Queens_ in every text. As cool as it is to have a nickname from Captain America himself, it reminds him of the airport, when his bones were on fire and he was too dizzy to stand. _You’re done, kid,_ Tony had said, and Peter was too winded to argue. Since day one, Tony had looked out for him.

_If you die, I feel like that’s on me._

Sometimes Peter forgets it’s been five years since half the population disappeared. He’s reminded in small ways, like when he sees Principal Morita with more grey than black hair. When he turns in his chair to ask Cindy Moon a question, only to realize she’s not in his class anymore because she graduated four years ago. When he sees MJ in the hall except it’s _not_ MJ but her little sister, because both of them are walking around Midtown as seniors in high school. When he gets texts from Morgan Stark off of her mother’s phone, messages littered with keyboard smashes and several different emojis. When he goes to type in the date on his papers and autocorrect changes the year. 

Most nights are plagued with nightmares; brief ones, ones that come out of nowhere, dreams that start with him swinging through Queens and turn into him holding onto a spaceship for dear life, watching Tony’s look of disappoint morph into horror as Peter feels himself fade. _I don’t feel so good, I don’t want to go, I’m sorry—_

Or it’s on the charred ground of what used to be the Avengers facility, Carol Danvers with her cocked head and glowing body, Thor with his eyes full of lightning, Captain America with the broken shield, the gauntlet over Tony’s hand.

Peter wakes up in darkness and has to check his phone. He sets a timer every night when he tries to sleep so he can wake up and make sure he hasn’t spent another five years in the wind.

=

“Have you thought about it?” Pepper asks, voice soft as Morgan dozes across Peter’s chest.

Peter looks up. They’d started watching a movie, something Disney came out with in the past couple years, but Peter hadn’t really been paying attention. Morgan fell asleep about twenty minutes ago, dressed in her purple pyjamas, hugging a teddy bear between her chest and Peter’s. He’s pretty sure she’s drooling. “About what?”

“Spider-Man.” she clarifies. “Being Spider-Man again.”

He has. A little bit. But it’s something he’s pushed to the back of his mind. “I don’t know if I want to be.”

“Someone’s gotta look out for the little guy, right? Isn’t that what you always said?”

It’s what he told Tony when he turned down the opportunity to become an Avenger. _You can’t be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man if there’s no neighborhood._ “Yeah,” says Peter, throat dry. “But—well, I—I don’t know if the little guy needs protecting anymore.”

“You know Tony would want you to.”

He knows. He also knows they’ve started talking about Tony like he’s not going to wake up at all. He wonders if his mentor is still dreaming about the stars. “I’ll think about it,” he promises. “For now, I just want to get through my Physics class.”

Pepper laughs, soft and light. Morgan shifts in her sleep as the movie drones on, some song about family or honor or whatever Disney makes songs about these days. Peter rubs a hand softly over Morgan’s back, the way Uncle Ben used to when Peter couldn’t sleep.

“You’re so good with her, you know,” says Pepper, moments later. Peter looks over at her to see her eyes glistening with unshed tears. _Miss Potts,_ he used to call her. Now she’s just Pepper because he doesn’t think he’d remember to call her _Mrs. Stark._ He sometimes forgets they lived their lives without him there. They got married. Had a kid. He missed it all. “It’s all Tony ever wanted.”

He thinks back to the funeral. “He really called me her big brother?” 

Her smile is soft and maybe just a bit wistful. “Every opportunity he got.” 

=

While the first semester back at school had been easy, the spring semester is not so much. Midtown has been nothing short of a shitshow. According to Ned, the place had been a shitshow when everyone returned; students were returning in seats that were already occupied and in the middle of the gym court during basketball practice. After much deliberation and many student requests, Midtown’s curriculum took a temporary detour in order to acclimate those who were lost in the snap. As a result, they’d given everyone an extra week off for spring break and were focusing on catching everyone up to speed on the world they’d returned to for the remainder of the semester. 

But Peter hadn’t actually accounted for the fact that these students who had suddenly disappeared would need an explanation. With the explanation came the entire story of Thanos, including the battles before the snap and the battle that ended it all.

The battles that Peter had been a part of.

He didn’t really feel like listening to his teachers retell it all, especially since it was most likely going to be inaccurate. He also didn’t feel like making a surprise appearance as Spider-Man, because everyone would notice that Peter was absent and he wasn’t sure he could talk through the entire experience without breaking down. He considered texting Steve, maybe asking him to come in, but he thought that would be too much. After all, Midtown was not the only school going through this. Why should Captain America (or the former one, anyway) come to this school specifically? 

It’s not like he could bring a note excusing his absence, anyway. May would kill him if he skipped.

So he goes. 

It starts out as a normal day. They break up the student population into three groups, organized by alphabetical order, so they can bring each group into the auditorium throughout the day and explain everything best they can. Peter’s in the middle section, thankfully grouped with MJ and Ned, so he spends the first third of his school day in Calculus and Physics. They break for lunch, and then Principal Morita is calling his group over the PA, so Peter chucks his half-eaten lunch in the trash and follows Ned out of the cafeteria. 

They settle in the auditorium within the hour. Peter sits between Ned and MJ, legs bouncing as the students talk around him. His head has started pounding, sharp jabs in sync with his accelerated heartbeat. This is almost worse than fighting bad guys, he thinks. 

This is the first time he’s facing the entire situation head-on. Peter thinks he should have taken Sam Wilson up on his offer of therapy. 

“You good?” Ned whispers. 

Peter nods. “I’m fine,” he says. MJ lowers her book just a little.

“Did you hear they’re thinking about a school trip?” she asks, not taking her eyes off her pages. “For the seniors who snapped. To Europe, I think. Pretty cool. You ever been to Europe?”

 _I can’t go to Germany._ “Nah,” says Peter, remembering the face Tony made after he’d said it. He’s pretty sure Morgan made that face the other day after one of Peter’s endless puns. “Would be cool, though, if they did it.”

“It’d be cool to take a break.” MJ muses, and Peter cannot agree more.

The lights dim. All students cease their conversations, leaving an eerie quiet that makes Peter think of oblivion. The stage lights come up, as well as the projector screen: it’s a PowerPoint that was very obviously thrown together last minute. The comic sans font is like icing on the cake. 

The beginning of it is the basics: politics, important world news, how people all over the world are still struggling after the catastrophe and how it’s okay to still feel lost. The teachers are here to help. No questions, because they don’t have time, but the school has additional counselors and licensed therapists if any student needs to come forward with anything.

Then Principal Morita gets into the explanation: Thanos. 

He starts with the giant spaceship that touched down in New York. There are images up on the screen, mostly blurry, but Peter can make out that ugly Squidward-looking alien, as well as Dr. Strange. He sees Tony, Bruce, and even himself, followed by the utter destruction left after the ship left the atmosphere. After _Peter_ left the atmosphere. 

He was right: they don’t _really_ know what happened. Peter learns that the remaining Avengers post-snap never held a press conference. They were silent on the matter, so the population put together what they could; theorists and scientists were the ones who broke the silence on the Infinity Stones. Each one is brought up: space, time, mind, reality, soul, energy—

“Power,” Peter mutters. “Not energy.”

“What?” MJ asks, barely paying attention as it is.

Peter doesn’t answer.

Thanos gained all six and snapped half the world from existence. The broken superheroes went off the map for five years. Then, all of a sudden, everyone reappeared.

Then Principal Morita plays a video.

It’s a very shaky shot, and far from its intended view, but Peter knows exactly what they’re looking at: Thanos and his army attacking the Avengers compound. There’s smoke and dust everywhere and the heavy sound of bullets and aliens screaming. He remembers waking up on that planet, Stephen Strange hovering over him, a hand on his shoulder just where Tony’s had been before Peter faded away. The other Guardians around them. 

Bright circles break through the smoke in the distance. Strange’s portals, Peter realizes. He swung through one of those. The sound in the video increases with more shouts. He can see Captain Marvel flying in the sky as nothing but a bright blur. The video is edited, because the screen changes and all of a sudden all of the noise stops.

Peter wants to look away but he can’t. A light covers the camera so bright it hurts to look at; the students start to whisper as heavy amounts of dust float away and the field that used to be the Avengers complex suddenly loses what Peter knows to be piles of bodies and standing aliens. 

The PowerPoint jumps forward a slide, showing a photo of Tony and Natasha. “Iron Man and the Black Widow gave their lives to save us all. They brought us back, and we have them to thank.”

“Tony’s not dead.” Peter says, because he can’t help himself.

The video is long gone but Peter knows what happened in the moments after the camera stopped recording. _You can rest now. We won._

_Is he dead?_

_Still breathing._

_Oh, thank God, he’s still breathing._

“Peter, you’re shaking.” MJ murmurs.

Peter can feel it. His entire body is trembling. The photo of Tony and Natasha is still on the screen but all Peter can see is Tony’s mangled arm, his sparking armor. Tony—this Tony, the one smiling on the screen, throwing up a peace sign with the arm that’s now completely useless—is not the same. He’ll never be the same. Peter remembers the burn scars, the haunting glittering of the rainbow, the pale, gaunt body of his mentor, the steady drone of his heart monitor.

And Natasha. Gone. A woman Peter never met, an Avenger he’d always admired. A soldier whose funeral he’d attended. Not Tony’s. Because Tony isn’t dead.

 _I’m sorry about Tony Stark, man,_ Flash had said.

The whole world thinks Tony is dead.

Everyone thinks Tony is _dead,_ and how did Peter not realize that before?

“Peter.” Ned says, whisper-soft, but it sounds like an ear-splitting shriek in Peter’s ears. “Hey, man, are you okay? Do you need to get out of here?”

Principal Morita speaks on but Peter can’t hear anymore. All he hears is the rush of his heart beating erratically.

_Dead. Dead dead dead_

Something clamps down on Peter’s shoulder and he fucking loses it.

There’s a horrible creaking sound that makes everything go still. Ned is standing on his left, his hands in front of him like a shield. He’s got Peter’s phone in his hands. When did he get Peter’s phone?

“Peter?” says Principal Morita, like he’s speaking to someone with a gun pointed to his head.

Peter has to take a moment to bring him back to where he is. It takes him another moment to realize he’s on his feet now, not sitting, because the seat he’d been in is now broken. 

His hand feels warm. He looks down; it’s bloody and pricked with splinters from the wood on the seats. He can’t even feel the pain.

“The seats.” MJ says from his other side. “You broke—the seats—”

With horror, Peter realizes the reason Ned is standing is because his seat’s been broken too, just like Peter’s. Peter did that. Peter broke the seats. He lost control. People are going to know. People are going to realize—

“I…” Peter says, feeling like he’s got cotton in his mouth. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I—”

What did he do?

“It’s okay.” Ned is quick to say, and that’s when Peter realizes his best friend is cradling one of his arms with the other. Suddenly he’s very aware of everything. Ned seems to realize this too, because he adds, “I’m not hurt, really, it’s nothing, dude, you didn’t mean it—”

But Peter can’t hear him. Not anymore. He runs, backing up and nearly tripping over MJ in the process. He thinks someone shouts his name, but he doesn’t stop to check. He doesn’t care. He can’t breathe. He fucked up so bad. _So_ bad.

He pushes the door open and leaves a smear of blood on his way out.

=

Peter barely makes it down the street before a car pulls sharply in front of him.

“Long time no see, kid,” Happy says, staring at him from the driver’s seat. He gestures at the shotgun seat beside him. “Get in.”

Peter sniffs. “How did you find me?”

Happy holds up his cell phone. “Ned called me.”

“Oh.” Peter says. He climbs in and tries not to wince when the splinters dig into his palm. “What’d he say?”

“Enough,” he answers.

They’re quiet for a minute. Peter waits until Happy turns onto the freeway before he asks, “So...what did Ned tell you exactly?”

But Happy isn’t having it. “How are you, Peter?” he asks. “Believe it or not, I kinda miss your daily updates.”

Peter almost laughs. How simple things were back then. “I’m doing fine, Happy,” he says, even though it’s complete bullshit. “School. May. Pepper and Morgan.”

“Still no Spider-Man?”

“That seems to be a hot topic lately.”

“We’re all just looking out for you, kid.”

“Still no Spider-Man,” Peter echoes, because he’s not really sure what to say to that. 

Happy says, “Ned told me you broke a chair.”

“Two chairs,” Peter mutters, keeping his eyes on the road. 

“What happened?”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, Pete.” 

“It was—it was just a dumb assembly.” Once he says it, he can’t stop the rest of the story: the PowerPoint, the video, the panic attack, probably outing himself as Spider-Man. By the end of it, Peter is almost full-on sobbing, arms wrapped around himself for some kind of comfort. 

Happy lets him take a moment. They’re not heading to Peter’s apartment, he realizes. They’re going somewhere else. “It happens, kid,” says Happy, very softly. “You know how many times I’ve had to help Tony out of shit like that?”

Peter sniffs. “Yeah, but—”

“No, no _buts_ about it. You don’t have to justify it. It’s not anything to be embarrassed about.”

“I’m not embarrassed.” Peter blurts out. “That’s—they said Tony gave his life. They said he was _dead._ He’s not dead. He’s going to wake up. The whole world thinks Tony is _dead_ and I—I just—I feel like I’m the only one who gives a shit about the fact that he’s _not!”_

“Hey.” Happy snaps, with such force that it almost makes Peter stop crying altogether. “None of us have given up hope, kid.”

“Then why does it feel like it?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Peter wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Tony’s a fighter, kid.” Happy says, looking away from the road to glance at Peter. “I’ve known him since before you were born. I was there the day he got back from Afghanistan, acting like he hadn’t just spent three months as a hostage. I was there when he nearly got sliced in half by some crazy asshole with electric whips. Hell, I nearly got killed by some guy Tony dissed at a New Years party one time.” he laughs, mostly to himself, and then changes lanes. “My point is that Tony is probably the strongest guy I’ve ever known. He’s gonna wake up, okay?” 

“I know,” Peter says, unable to keep the whine out of his voice. “But—”

“He solved time travel in one night ‘cause of you,” he adds. “He just got you back. He’s not giving that up.”

_How many outcomes we win?_

_One._

“I don’t think,” says Happy, and he speaks slowly, like he’s choosing his words as carefully as he can, “Tony would have done what he did if he didn’t know that you were going to be here after it all.”

“I just—” Peter starts, hating the way he’s whining. “I just really miss him.”

Happy’s smile is heartbreaking. “Yeah,” he says. “I do too.”

=

Happy ends up taking him to Sam Wilson, who pulls the splinters out of Peter’s hand and washes the blood off and brings him hot chocolate. They sit in Sam’s living room and just talk, mostly about anything other than the trauma they shared. They compare favorite movies, favorite superheroes, the time Ant-Man kicked Sam’s ass and the time he kicked Peter’s. Peter doesn’t have his phone, so he’s got no idea how long they stay that way, but he finds that he doesn’t really care.

“How do you do it?” Peter asks, once he’s finished his drink and his hand has started to heal. 

Sam’s setting their mugs in the sink. “Do what?”

“Just...everything.” he glances at his hands. “You disappeared, just like me. But you’re handling it way better than I did.”

He turns to face the kid sitting on his couch. “That’s just because I want to look cooler than you.”

Peter smiles a bit. “Funny.”

Sam crosses the apartment and sits beside him. “But seriously,” he says, letting out a sigh. “We all handle stuff in our own way, kid. And I was a soldier before this, so this really ain’t my first rodeo. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it does get better. I still get nightmares, but it gets easier. Eventually.” 

“Yeah?” Peter looks up. “How long does that take?”

“It’s different for everyone.” Sam answers. “But you’ll get there.”

“I hope so.” 

Peter rubs his hands along his thighs. “I just want—a break,” he admits, blowing out a breath. 

“I get it.” Sam promises. “You deserve it.”

“Do I?” he shakes his head. “There’s—a lot of shit I have to work out, you know? Thanos is gone, but that’s not the last threat we’ll face. Tony made me an Avenger, but we were in the middle of disaster. And when he wakes up, he’ll probably be done being Iron Man. We assembled the world’s greatest heroes and we lost a lot in the process. And—where are we now? Steve and Bucky are out of commission; they’ve earned it. Clint’s off the map. Thor and the Guardians live in _space_. Who knows where Captain Marvel went. I’ve—seen Wanda, like, once, but I know she’s not doing Avenger things. King T’Challa’s a fucking _King,_ he’s got his own country to worry about.”

“We’re not going away.” Sam points out. “At least, I’m not. Captain America’s got _wings_ now, kid. That’s me. There are a lot of kids who have been waiting years to look up to a superhero who looks just like them and I’ll be damned if I don’t protect the earth just as well as the guy who passed the shield down to me.” he pats his shoulder and gives him a look. “So you’ve got me. Maybe Banner, if he’s willing to lend that big brain of his. Strange, if he gets his head out of his ass. And we’ve got you.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” Peter admits.

He sighs. “We blew the world to shit,” Sam says, leaning back against the couch. “Then somehow, we taped it back together. But everyone out there is still terrified. This—this isn’t a permanent solution. They need to believe in something, Peter. We have to give them something to believe in.”

Sam looks at him for a moment and then stands, rolling his shoulders like he’s got tension he needs to shake. “C’mon,” he says. “I’ll give you a lift home.”

=

And it’s all right, after Peter gets home and hugs his aunt and messages Ned from his laptop. He comes over, later, with MJ behind him, and the three of them hole up in Peter’s bedroom.

“Your hand’s fine,” says MJ, just as Peter closes the door behind them. 

“Oh—uh, yeah.” Peter says, flexing his fingers. “Cuts weren’t deep.”

She watches him for a moment while Ned plugs Peter’s phone into his charger. “No one thinks anything,” she says, sitting on the floor. “About you.”

Peter looks right back at her. “You—”

“It’s obvious,” says MJ, shrugging one shoulder. “I mean, I’ve known since Washington. I just figured I’d wait until you told me. But everybody at school just thinks you freaked ‘cause they were talking about Stark.”

“I—I did freak because they talked about Tony.” Peter admits. He wrings his hands together. “I just—I lost control. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Peter,” Ned says, sitting next to her. 

“Are you hurt?” Peter asks. 

“Not at all.” Ned promises. He waves both arms. “See? I’m fine. I’m sorry I freaked you out back there.”

Peter shakes his head as he joins them on the floor. “Not your fault. It’s just...I’m having a hard time. Dealing, you know, with...all of this.”

“Yeah.” MJ echoes. She wraps her arms around her knees. “But you’ve got us. If you need us.”

“Of course I do.” he says. 

Ned pats Peter’s leg. “We’re in this together.”

They don’t bring it up again. May orders pizza and lets the kids be and Peter feels like he can really _breathe_ for the first time in who knows how long.

=

Morgan’s birthday falls on a rainy Sunday. It’s a quiet affair: Peter and May join the Starks in their cabin with Happy and Colonel Rhodes and a birthday cake fit for a six-year-old.

“Happy birthday, honey,” croons Pepper, smoothing Morgan’s hair away from her forehead. The candles on her cake are extinguished, all courtesy of Morgan’s fierce blowing. “What did you wish for?”

Morgan just shakes her head. “Can’t tell you,” she says, looking up at her mother with determination that is _awfully_ Tony Stark of her. “If I do, it won’t come true.”

Peter snickers. “She’s got a point,” he says. 

But he notices the way Morgan looks over at the photo of her family, of both her parents awake, holding her in their arms. Pepper pretends to be offended at the notion of her daughter keeping her wish to herself, but Peter wonders if Pepper can already guess it. It’s quick as can be, Morgan’s wistful look; it’s with a quick prick at his heart that Peter realizes he’s seen the same look in Tony’s eyes. 

Then Morgan reaches up and fiddles with the spider pendant on her neck. 

_Oh._

When Peter was younger, all he wanted was a baby brother or sister. He’d always ask his parents and they’d always say _maybe._ Looking back on it, Peter knows everything played out the way it was meant to. He knows he was never supposed to have that when he was a kid.

He knows it, because he knows the baby sister he’d always dreamt of is standing in front of him now, wearing a smile as Pepper cuts the cake, wearing a cape and a plastic crown.

 _You’d be so proud,_ Peter thinks, glancing up like Tony can hear him. Like he’s still dreaming about the stars, and always would be until the moment he opened his eyes.

They eat their cake and Morgan opens her presents and she thanks everyone with a sweet kiss on the cheek. Afterwards, when Pepper and Rhodey are cleaning up the wrapping and Happy and May are in the kitchen, Morgan tugs Peter into her bedroom and pats her bed like she wants him to sit next to her.

“Did you have a good birthday?” Peter asks, obliging, because he really can’t say no to her.

“Uh huh,” says Morgan, giving him a look that is too suspicious for Peter’s liking. “But you didn’t get me a present.”

“Uh—oh.” says Peter. He blinks at her. “Well, May and I—”

“No,” she interrupts, crossing her arms. “You have to give me one too.”

Why does he feel so embarrassed in front of a six-year-old? “Well, like what?”

She smiles, all teeth and dimples. “I have an idea. But you gotta promise you’re gonna give it to me.”

Oh, Tony’s child through and through. “Depends on what it is.” Peter replies.

Morgan shakes her head. “Nuh uh. Promise _first.”_

Peter sighs. “I’m definitely going to regret this, aren’t I?” At her insistent look, he holds his hands up. “Okay, okay, fine. I promise. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.”

“I want you to be Spider-Man.”

He blinks. “What?”

Her hand reaches up to her necklace. “Mommy says you’re not Spider-Man anymore,” she says, swinging her legs off the side of her bed. 

“Well, I—” Peter runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll always be Spider-Man. I’m just...taking a break.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed one.”

“But you’ve taken a really long break.” Morgan says. “And you always make me be Spider-Man when we play superheroes.”

Peter narrows his eyes. “You always _say_ you want to be Spider-Man.”

“Well, you always let me.” she retorts. “But I’m not Spider-Man, Petey. _You_ are. And you said you’d give me anything I want. I want you to be Spider-Man.”

He sighs. He knows there’s no way he can get out of this. “Em,” he says, as soft as he can, “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

She takes a moment to think about this. Then she leans over, patting the hand that’s resting on his jeans. “Daddy would want you to,” she says, like it’s the answer to everything. “Especially ‘cause he can’t right now. If Daddy’s not helping people and _you’re_ not helping people, then who’s supposed to protect us when the bad things happen?”

“There are...other Avengers.” Peter starts.

But Morgan just shakes her head. “Not like you,” she argues. “Not like Daddy. You guys are the best.”

Her words put a lump in Peter’s throat that he can’t get rid of. Her eyes are so wide, so earnest, so hopeful in _him_ it almost makes him sick. Peter leans forward and kisses her head, clearing his throat so he can talk without completely falling apart. “I’ll think about it, kiddo,” he says. Morgan doesn’t push it. Instead, she throws her arms around him, toppling them both over in the fiercest hug Peter’s ever been given in his life.

=

Queens is illuminated by street lamps and car brakes and cell phone lights. Even in the late night, it’s alive, never stopping, always busy. 

Peter takes a breath. He loves being this high, loves seeing everything from a view he’d never get to see if he wasn’t a superhero. Even just standing this high, he feels the ache to hop off the building, swing through the sky; he misses the wind, the feeling of flying, the feeling of falling. He misses it deep in his bones and he’s suddenly filled with a loss he hadn’t felt until this very moment. The ache feels sickening; it reminds him of ash and dust and screaming aliens and a blinding white light and all of a sudden Peter just wants to _leave._

But he promised.

He pulls the mask down over his head before he can stop himself.

It comes to life. The familiar screen, analyzing the city life below him. _“Hello, Peter,”_ says Karen’s voice, smooth and comforting. _“Welcome back.”_

“Hey, Karen.” Peter says. He smiles. “Did you miss me?”

=

When he returns to his apartment later that night, May’s bedroom light is still on. He slips in through his window, pulls off his mask, and his door pushes open.

May stands in the doorway. The light from the hallway silhouettes her frame, but Peter can still see the tears in her eyes. He feels cold all over. “May?” he asks, dropping his mask instantly. “Are you okay? What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” she says, and hiccups through a sob. She holds a hand over her heart. “It’s—I’m just so proud of you, Peter.” And then: “Tony would be, too.”

=

The end of June brings not only hot and muggy temperatures but also the end of the school year. It comes quicker than Peter expected it would; he’s got exams and flashcards and study guides coming out of his ass but he splits his studying time between friends and family. Pepper helps him go over some of his English guides during spaghetti night and Dr. Banner quizzes him with Physics and Calculus while Tony dreams on in the room over and May leaves takeout on the counter when Peter gets back from patrolling. Ned greets him with Government questions in the mornings and his conversations with MJ have consisted of mostly-fluent Spanish.

The week of exams he brings the first coffee. MJ buys them a second round after school’s out, when they head to Starbucks to trade experiences and go over the exams left. Ned buys the ice cream and sandwiches from Delmar’s on Thursday, when all exams are finished, and nothing is left but Friday’s say-goodbye-to-high-school day.

And Friday morning comes with MJ’s parents picking Peter up. Ned’s already in the car. This is the very last day of high school and Peter’s going to spend it with his friends and he graduates in just over a week and there’s literally nothing bothering him right at this very moment.

And then his phone rings.

It’s Pepper. Not unusual; sometimes it’s Morgan hijacking her mom’s phone in the middle of the day, because six-year-olds like Morgan Stark forget that eighteen-year-olds like Peter Parker have school all day. Even so, they’re pulling into the Midtown lot now, so Peter lets it ring. He’ll probably receive a voicemail that he’ll save onto his phone just like the rest.

His phone stops ringing as he thanks MJ’s moms and follows his friends out of the car. It starts back up again just as he enters the school building.

“Dude,” says Ned, as Peter’s ringtone buzzes from his pocket. “Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“Not supposed to have my phone out at school.” Peter reminds him.

MJ rolls her eyes. “It’s the last day, nerd. What are they gonna do, suspend you?”

It rings again.

Peter sighs. “Yeah, all right.” MJ looks triumphant as he fishes his phone from his pocket, accepting the call and holding it to his ear. “Hey, Em, I’m in school, remember—”

 _“Peter.”_ Pepper breathes. Not Morgan. _Pepper._ She takes another shaky breath and a chill settles into his bones. _“Peter, thank God.”_

“Pepper?” he frowns. Both of his friends look at him and then share a glance. “What’s going on? Are you okay? Is Morgan okay?”

 _“Yeah—yeah, babe, we’re fine, we’re_ all _fine.”_ she says. It all comes out rushed. _“It’s—it’s_ Tony _, Peter, Bruce called and said he’s waking up—Peter, he’s waking_ up _, get your_ ass _over here—”_

Anything else she says is unheard, because Peter’s phone shatters on the ground and the screen goes black. His entire body is screaming. _Waking up._

“I—I gotta go.” Peter says slowly.

“Peter—” Ned starts.

But Peter’s already backing up. “I gotta go!” he says, louder this time. He smiles, laughs, nearly cries as he holds his hands into fists and punches the air. “It’s Tony! I gotta go!”

_He’s waking up._

=

He arrives approximately half an hour later, sweaty and out of breath and still buzzing with excitement. Peter had left his broken phone on the floor in Midtown, so he’ll definitely need to borrow someone’s to let May know what’s going on. Knowing Pepper, she’s probably already sent a text, so he might not have to worry. 

The moment he opens the doors there’s Dr. Cho, like she’s waiting for him. She points down the hallway: a different way from Tony’s old room, maybe he’s already walking, holy _shit,_ he’s actually awake—

He makes it down the hallway, all the way to the end, and he can see Pepper’s heels and Morgan’s little owl backpack propped up against the wall. It’s here. He’s here. He’s _here._

Peter slams the door open. 

Tony is sitting in the bed in the corner of the room, Pepper at the foot of it and Morgan sandwiched between them. She’s asleep, curled up against the side of Tony’s body, and doesn’t even stir at the bang of the door against the wall. This room is bigger than the other, with less machines and less wires. The sight of Tony sitting, awake, eyes open, _alive_ makes Peter inhale sharply.

Tony looks up.

Pepper smiles, tears shining on her cheeks. “I’m going to make a few more calls,” she says, leaning over to kiss Tony lightly. “I’ll give you two a moment.”

When she leaves, she closes the door. Peter stares unblinkingly at Tony, awake, alive, smiling _Tony,_ his good arm over his daughter’s back, the steady drone of his heart monitor filling the silent room. He drops his bag next to Morgan’s and steps closer to Tony’s bed.

Then:

“You look like shit,” Tony says pointedly, and it’s so ridiculous, so surprising, so _Tony_ that Peter almost bursts into tears right there. “Seriously, kid, are you okay?”

He’s been awake for probably only an hour and one of the first things he does is worry over Peter. As much as he wants to, Peter really can’t say he’s surprised. He’s thought about this moment so often, about what he would say, about what he would do, about when it would actually arrive.

So Peter just laughs. It takes him a moment to realize he’s already crying. “I’m good,” he says, wiping his cheeks with trembling hands. “I’m good, Mr. Stark. Really good.”

Tony’s expression softens. “Good,” he says. “Good to hear it, Pete. Bring it in.”

And Tony’s arm folds around him without another word, rubbing his back like Peter’s been doing to Morgan for months. It’s awkward and perfect and everything Peter has been missing since the moment Tony snapped his fingers.

“Oh!” Peter says, pulling back. There are definitely tears in Tony’s eyes and Peter chooses to ignore them because he’ll cry harder if he doesn’t. “Before I forget.”

He unzips his backpack and pulls out the tickets they’d been given yesterday. He yanks one out and shoves it into Tony’s hand. His mentor flips it over, but Peter tells him anyway, because he’s buzzing with excitement and _this moment is actually here_ and maybe it really is going to be just like Peter has envisioned since the minute Tony Stark took him under his wing. “If you’re still stuck here, or you can’t make it, I get it, but—I graduate next week.”

Tony drops the ticket. “You fucking _what?”_

“Daddy,” Morgan grumbles, rubbing one of her eyes. “I’m telling Mommy you said a bad word.”

=

Tony’s favorite word becomes _fuck_ after he wakes up.

He says _fuck you_ to the doctors who tell him he has to stay for at least two weeks to run tests. He says _fuck off_ to Bruce when he tries to convince him to stay. He says _fuck this_ when they put his mangled arm in a sling because he can’t move it at all. He says _fuck that_ to the wheelchair that Helen Cho reluctantly offers once they stop badgering him.

He says, “My kid’s fucking _graduating_ from high school,” when Helen tries to convince him _one last time_ the day before Peter’s graduation ceremony. Tony says, “There’s no way in hell I’m missing that.”

And Tony keeps his word. Peter’s name is called by Principal Morita and Tony’s shouts can be heard above it all. He sits in the back, with May and Pepper and Morgan, whose tiny spider necklace sticks out against the red of the dress she chose to wear with blue tights.

If people see that Tony Stark is alive and in Midtown’s auditorium, they say nothing. They say nothing as he stands up from his seat and claps and whistles and cheers along with the rest of Peter’s family.

And if people see Tony Stark stand beside Peter as the new graduate props Morgan up on his hip and poses with the man who changed his life forever, they say nothing then too.

=

After it all, they throw a party.

It’s a Peter-graduated-what-the-fuck-Tony’s-awake gathering haphazardly thrown together in a span of three hours. The cabin is crowded with Avengers just like it was all those months ago on the day they said goodbye to Natasha Romanoff. Ned and MJ are here too, the only two people Peter invited to celebrate their recent achievement. Peter’s pretty sure Pepper pulled the biggest strings ever to get a custom-ordered cake and he’s seriously not complaining, because he’s pretty sure he heard her say _red velvet_ into her phone and that’s enough for Peter to practically drool at the thought of it. May is somewhere, probably talking to Happy or Rhodey; Peter can’t see his friends but he knows they’re probably marvelling over one of the Avengers. MJ had been gushing over Wanda on the car ride over, and he knows Ned will just gape at anyone in his path. 

And it’s all exciting: Peter’s out of high school. There were many days when he thought he wouldn’t live to see this day, and here he is. Five years later but it feels like those years never happened. The world is different on the outside but inside this cabin, it feels the same. It feels like home.

Peter is home.

He sits on the edge of Tony’s couch, curled up on one cushion, looking around as the party goes on. Morgan is laughing, probably in her room, most likely with her father. Pepper might be there, too. He wonders if the Guardians have arrived yet. 

The couch dips beside him. Sam nurses a beer as he shifts to face Peter, a warm light in his eyes. “Congrats, Spidey,” he says, nudging his arm. “You graduated. That’s one hell of an accomplishment.”

“Yeah,” says Peter, smiling slightly. “Thank you, man.”

“Got any college plans?”

“Not yet.” he admits. “I’m not rushing.”

“Are you bothering him, Wilson?” Tony asks, before Sam can reply. Peter almost forgets to breathe for a moment. Tony’s been back for two weeks and Peter has to force himself it’s not a dream. “Or—shit, Cap, now, isn’t it? That’s gonna take a minute to get used to.”

Sam’s smile is half-smirk. “You better. I’m not going anywhere.”

Tony just laughs. “Wouldn’t have it any other way. You mind if I borrow my kid?”

“By all means,” says Sam, and he leaves them alone.

Peter stands up. Tony takes the opportunity to ruffle his hair. “C’mon.” he says, throwing his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I grabbed you a juice box. Let’s go for a walk.”

The walk ends up leading them outside, down the hill to the lake. Tony takes a seat on the dock, offering Peter’s juice box up from his pocket with a wan smile. Away from everyone else, just the two of them, Peter can see just how tired Tony really seems. He wonders how much of a front he’s putting up for everyone.

Tony jerks his head to the side. “When did that get there?”

Peter’s eyes drift over. He’s gesturing to the swingset. “Oh, a couple months ago?” he hums, stabbing at the box with the plastic straw. “Pepper and I put it together for Morgan’s birthday. You should see the inside of the room on the bottom—Em calls it her superhero lair, it’s got stickers of you and me all over it—hey, you okay?”

Tony’s breathing gets a bit more erratic. “Yeah, kid.” he says, shaking his head. He’s rubbing his bad shoulder with the only arm he’s got in use. “Sorry, I—shit, I didn’t think—”

“No, I shouldn’t have—” Peter starts.

“Pete, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Tony interrupts. “I’m serious. It’s me. I’m just—God, I woke up and just felt like I’d taken a nap, and then you said you were _graduating,_ and I missed my kid’s birthday—”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’d just saved the entire _universe_ from a guy with a ballsack for a chin.”

“—and it’s really—I’m sorry, what?” he blinks. Peter just offers a sheepish smile. “I cannot _believe_ you just said that.”

“Am I wrong?”

“I—no, but that’s not the point—”

“Mr. Stark—Tony.” Peter says, nudging his mentor with his leg. “Yeah, you missed a little bit of our lives. But you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He snorts. “Since when did you get so wise, Mr. Parker?”

“Have you taken a break since you woke up?”

Tony scoffs. He glances at Peter and then glances away. “Are you trying to parent me right now?”

“Definitely not.”

“Bullshit.” Tony says, as Peter slurps away at his juice box. Tony laughs, grabbing a pebble from the dock and chucking into the water. “This is all bullshit.”

Peter looks at him.

“All this—this superhero shit.” he waves his hand. “Not to sound like an asshole or anything, but I’m really tired of almost dying to save the world.”

“I’m also really tired of you almost dying to save the world.” Peter echoes.

Tony gives him a weak smile. “Pep says the entire world thought I was dead. Is it bad I kind of wish we could keep it that way?”

“No.” Peter says, and he means it. “You’ve earned a complete retirement.”

The smile widens. “I think I’ve earned cheeseburgers with my family, now that we’re actually all together for once.”

 _Family._ Pepper, Morgan, Tony, _Peter._ Tony considers him part of his _family._

“I heard you took a little break from your friendly neighborhood web-slinger.”

“Oh?” Peter asks, wincing just a little. “Who told you that?”

Tony holds up his hand and counts off on his fingers. “Happy, Pepper, Morgan, May—”

“Yeah, okay, that’s enough.” Peter interrupts. “I did take a break.”

“Understandable. I’ve tried to do that a fair share of times.” Tony leans back, bracing his weight on his arm. “Can I ask why?”

Peter looks at his own reflection in the water, leaning forward to do so. “The world needs the next Iron Man,” he says. “They’re all scared. And Sam is great, and we’ve got the Guardians if we need them, but—Spider-Man is just...Spider-Man. Looking out for the little guy. I’m not—special, I don’t have hundreds of suits, I can’t protect entire cities at once. How am I supposed to help keep this world safe like that?”

“Hey.” Tony says solemnly. He lays his hand on Peter’s shoulder and waits until they make eye contact. “You are _more_ than enough.”

“You’re just saying that,” says Peter, before he can stop himself.

Tony’s grip tightens on him. “I would never,” he answers. “You gotta give yourself some credit.”

Peter swallows.

With a sigh, Tony lowers his hand. “Look,” he says. “I second-guessed everything I did. Ever since the moment I had to make my own decisions. I was always worried I was making the wrong choice. But the one thing I didn’t second guess was you.

“I have something for you.” Tony says suddenly, as Peter’s heart constricts in his chest so tightly he can barely breathe. In Tony’s hand is a sunglasses case. He offers it out. “I—well, I did not think I was coming out of this alive. At all. So this was...kind of a post-mortem gift. I know it’s fucked up. But since I’m here...think of it as a graduation gift.”

Peter takes it and opens the case.

He recognizes the sunglasses immediately. They’re the ones he wore on the day Thanos’s army came to Earth. The day Peter went up into space, almost six years ago. He lifts the small card out of the case and flips it over.

_For the next Tony Stark: I trust you. P.S. Say ‘Edith.’_

“She’s got access to all databases of Stark Industries.” Tony explains, as Peter carefully unfolds the glasses. “And commands a large orbital weapons supply, up in space. All you gotta do is put them on and say her name.”

“Edith?” Peter echoes. “What does it stand for?”

Tony is quiet for a moment. Then, he says, “Doesn’t matter, kid. All that matters is that she’s yours. I trust you. And I’ll always be here if you need me.”

“I’ll always need you.” Peter says. He slides the glasses on and looks over at his mentor. There’s an unrecognizable expression in Tony’s eyes. 

Peter reaches out before Tony does. He hugs him, tight but not too tight, shutting his eyes. Tony’s arm wraps around him, hugging back, cupping the back of Peter’s head with his hand.

They stay there for a moment until Tony sniffs. He pulls back, running a hand over his face. For a moment, Peter’s afraid he did something wrong.

But Tony just smiles. “Ready to head back up?” he asks. “I think there’s a cake with your name on it.”

=

Of all people, Stephen Strange is the one to rope Tony into making a speech, just as everyone is finishing up their cake and washing it down with champagne (or soda, in Peter, Ned, and MJ’s case, or milk, in Morgan’s). Strange is the one who taps his glass so everyone quiets, and then Tony stands, using Pepper’s shoulder to steady himself. 

“I’m being forced into this,” Tony deadpans, which earns a laugh from everyone around the kitchen and living room. “No, but seriously, I want to thank all of you for being here. Today is not just about me. It’s about Peter, who made it through high school way better than I ever did and is going to go on to do great, great things.”

MJ elbows Peter, who smiles so hard his cheeks ache just a little. May is standing next to Happy across the room, but she raises her glass in her kid’s direction.

“But I know most of you are here because I’ve finally made my grand reappearance.” Tony says, gesturing with his glass. “I was always a firm believer in being fashionably late. So it’s only fitting that it took me nearly a year to wake up.

“We’re the _Avengers,”_ he says, with such valor it makes Peter’s heart swell. “All of us. Everyone in this room. Even Peter’s friends. Even my daughter,” he adds, ruffling her already-messy hair. “We saved the Earth from the biggest threat any of us have ever faced. And now we all deserve some _serious_ vacation time. Or retirement, like the hundred-year-old geezers standing in the back.”

Steve just smiles.

“And me,” Tony says, setting his glass down. “Sixteen years ago I became Iron Man. I spent the last decade and a half of my life trying to make the world a better place. A place I can now raise my _daughter_ in. A place I can now settle down into.

“I’m sure none of this comes as a surprise.” he says, looking down at Pepper. She curls her hand around his waist and nods, almost imperceptibly. “But somebody recently told me the world is searching for the next Iron Man. Well—the world doesn’t need another Iron Man.” Tony locks eyes with Peter. “It’s got Spider-Man.” 

Peter exhales.

“And Captain America.” Tony continues, looking at Sam. “And Stephen Strange. Captain Marvel. The Guardians of the Galaxy. Thor. Bruce Banner. Scarlet Witch. Black Panther. Ant-Man and the Wasp. War Machine. And if you need her, you’ll have Rescue, because we all know Pepper can kick ass better than I ever could. So I guess you should call this my official retirement statement.

“I’ll always be Iron Man.” he says. When he swallows, the burns on his face hint at the colors of the stones. _I am Iron Man._ “That’s a part of me I will _always_ be proud of. But I’m hanging up the helmet for good this time. I just want to watch my kids grow up. Get a dog. Maybe two dogs. Because I know I’m leaving the world in extremely capable hands.”

“To Tony,” says Steve, from his corner. He raises his glass in Tony’s direction and nods, a bittersweet expression on his face. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

“Damn right.” Tony replies.

Steve’s smile widens. “And Earth’s greatest defender.”

Everyone echoes their agreement and raises their glasses. Peter clinks his soda can against his friends’, knocks it against Sam’s glass with a smile, and reaches across the table to tap the end of it against Morgan’s pink plastic cup.

=

As Peter’s returning from a late-night patrol a couple days later, Tony’s face pops up on his screen. _“Got an alert about you getting hit in the stomach, Pete,”_ he says, eyebrows furrowed. _“You okay?”_

Peter groans. “Yeah,” he says. He wonders if he can get Ned to hack his suit again. “I’m fine.”

_“Wanna fill me in?”_

“I, uh, bought a pair of nunchucks.”

It’s very obvious Tony is trying very hard to keep from laughing. _“Okay.”_

“And I was practicing.”

_“As one does.”_

“And I might have hit myself in the stomach.”

That gets him. Tony snorts. _“Good one, kid.”_

“Thanks, Tony. I try,” says Peter, sarcastic as ever, as he pulls his window open and throws the nunchucks immediately under his bed.

_“You get home safe?”_

“Yep.” Peter responds, putting his phone on speaker as he pulls an old shirt over his head. “Saving the little guys one night at a time.”

 _“That’s what I like to hear,”_ says Tony. _“I’m proud of you.”_

“I’m just doing my job.”

 _“No, seriously.”_ Tony holds up a hand. _“Just let me say it. I’m really proud of you.”_

Peter’s eyes fill with tears. He wonders if Tony can see his face or maybe just his eyes. He figures he’ll ask about it later. 

Tony smiles. He lowers his hand. _“Get some sleep, all right? I’ll see you tomorrow. We gotta finish the rest of this cake before Morgan finds out we hid it in the secret fridge and goes crazy with it. Love you, bud.”_

“Love you too. Goodnight, Tony,” says Peter. He stays on the line until Tony hangs up first. Then he removes his mask and collapses into bed.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading.


End file.
